Merlin Philosophizes
by Burp
Summary: Merlin is rethinking some things. He's thinking he's going to make a new friend. Merlin Mordred friendship.


Note: So I was watching the fifth season, at long last, and I had to make a list about everything I didn't like about it. Minly it bothered me that Merlin is so concerned about preserving Arthur's life, that he doesn't seem to care about Camelot anymore. In the episode with the disir, he would rather end the life of the pawn (Mordred), than promote magic in Camelot, the end-all goal of his life (not that I think the creepy old crones should have been obeyed necessarily). He is so determined to end Mordred's life before he can strike, that he doesn't see the good in him. He doesn't see that maybe withholding his friendship from Mordred is one of the things that spurs on the prophecy. If he had been there to support Mordred in trying times, if he had confided his own experiences and wishes, then things might have worked out differently. Anyway, this is a different road that Merlin could have taken, and how everything might work out in an alternate scenario.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever owned the television series, _Merlin_, or anything copyrighted by its creators.

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Merlin scratched the back of his head with the long-handled spoon he was currently wielding over a pot of simmering herbs. He was making rudimentary potions for Gauis, and he was on the verge of a philosophical breakthrough. 'What if', he thought to himself, 'what if, instead of being suspicious and mercenary toward Mordred, I instead try to kill him with friendship?' His mother had always told him that the Good Book said to love your enemies. Honestly, he was getting really tired of trying to control _everything_ the young knight did concerning or around their king. In the past few weeks that Mordred had been here, he'd shown nothing but kindness, loyalty, and honesty (except concerning a pesky little note about having magic. Merlin didn't hold that against him.). These were all qualities praised in a knight of Camelot.

In his head, Merlin kept replaying Kilgarrah's words, those same words that had been tormenting him all this time, the same words that had nearly caused him to abandon Mordred to death all those years ago. Merlin huffed, filled with shame, as he always was when he considered his deeds that night. How could he have allowed his fear and selfishness to bring him so low? And how could he ignore that he had been acting the very same way since the boy had returned? His conscience would not allow him to deny it. Hence the brainstorming.

After the backfiring of all attempts to control the situation recently, Merlin was now ready to admit that he was powerless to do so. The thought that followed this revelation was this: 'If I am powerless to control the situation with Mordred and Arthur, then why try? Why tie myself in knots about things I have no control over? I need a new strategy.' So was implemented the regime dubbed "Killing with Kindness".

It is important to note that Merlin did not actually believe that Mordred would simply shrivel up and die on account of Merlin's kindness. Rather, what he meant by the title, was that Mordred and Arthur's terrible destiny might yet be thwarted by something the dragon had never taken into account. Love.

So it was the very next day that Merlin sought Mordred out, intentionally, and with a much different agenda than was his wont. As he walked the halls of Camelot following the midday meal, he grinned cheekily. He felt like he had regained a part of himself that had gone missing when Mordred had shown up. A weight was currently being lifted from his bony shoulders. Merlin spotted the man in question striding down the hall toward him.

"Mordred!" he greeted happily. Mordred stopped, seeing Merlin of all people willingly address him, and looked oddly at the taller, gangly man. He obviously didn't know what to think of this.

"Merlin," he greeted more modestly (and cautiously). Merlin's grin grew impossibly wide.

"Mordred, I've been meaning to catch you. Gwaine and I are going to the tavern tonight. Do you want to come?" Mordred's expression was priceless.

"Really?" he asked, completely nonplussed. Merlin's exaggerated, head banging nod was his answer.

"Will you come?" The fey looking man asked with all the signs of the greatest anticipation for a favorable answer.

"I, I will," Mordred stuttered.

"Great!" Merlin exclaimed. "We'll see you there! Sundown!" and continued his way down the halls with long, loping strides.

'What on earth was that?' Mordred asked himself in confusion. 'I thought he hated me.'

Later that evening, Merlin walked through the lower town, on his way to the tavern to meet his friends. Friends. Merlin smiled softly. It was a good word. He hadn't earned Mordred's friendship yet, but he would. His mother had always told him that every day was a new opportunity to do what is right. He arrived at the tavern and walked through the doors into the rosy, firelit interior. He immediately spotted Gwaine, who was already sitting with Mordred at a table near the back wall. Merlin grinned and walked over.

"Merlin, you're late!" Gwaine reprimanded.

"I don't think so Gwaine. You're always early when it comes to anything mead-related. However," he said slyly, glancing toward Mordred, "I didn't expect the same of our young friend here. Come here often, Mordred?" Mordred grinned at the joke.

"Only to watch Gwaine drink himself under the table. It never takes long." Merlin laughed. Gwaine smiled, enjoying the camaraderie, even at his expense.

"Yes, well, no one can beat Merlin's time for drinking himself under." Merlin stopped laughing, causing the other two to laugh uproariously.

"That's not true!" he objected incredulously. "I don't get drunk!"

"That, my friend, is because you limit yourself to one tankard, and even that gets you tipsy. And he does get drunk," he told Mordred, who listened avidly. "I had the great honor of witnessing it once. It was a spectacle, the likes of which I had never seen before, and hope to never see again. At least not in public." Merlin glowered.

"Well I've seen _you_ drunk more times than I can count _Sir_ Gwaine." He said petulantly.

"And you're about to see it again." Gwaine said good-naturedly. "Three tankards for my friends, barkeep!" he shouted into the din.

Mordred smiled to himself. This was . . . nice. He enjoyed camaraderie with the knights, but he was always aware that there was a large part of himself that they didn't know about. This was like, like the three of them were actually friends. Not that Gwaine knew, but Merlin did. And he didn't imagine Gwaine would be the type to care if he _did_ know. At least he wouldn't care if he knew about Merlin. Mordred didn't think there was a man in Camelot that Gwaine would more quickly defend.

The trio had a very enjoyable night at the tavern, trading stories and insults, and at the close of their time there, Merlin and Mordred helped their friend to his quarters.

"You know," Gwaine told them as they left, "You guys are th' best! Love y' guys!" The two more sober friends smiled at each other.

"Good night, Gwaine," said Merlin as he shut the door to Gwaine's chambers.

"Night M'lin!" They heard shouted through the oaken door. The two laughed. They began to walk their separate ways, but Mordred turned back uncertainly.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?" the taller man replied.

"Could we . . . talk?" Merlin's brows raised.

"All right." Mordred looked up and down the hall.

"Let's go to the roof, eh?" Merlin nodded.

"All right."

The two made their way to the relative privacy of the rooftop, nodding at the guards as they passed them. When they had arrived, they walked over to lean against the railings, and to look down upon sleeping Camelot.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Merlin asked a little nervously. Mordred turned to look at him.

"I was wondering why, all of a sudden, you're acting like my friend. That is- that's not to say I don't _want_ to be friends! I just, I'm a little . . . shocked. I'm shocked, and I don't know what to make of it. So if you could just tell me what's going on, I'd be very grateful, that's all." There was a long pause as Merlin steeled himself to tell Mordred the truth.

"I . . . I do want to be your friend Mordred, I truly do. In fact, I've always wanted to, but something was holding me back." Mordred looked confused.

"What?" Merlin took a deep breath.

"A prophecy." Merlin paused for several moments. "You see, I have this friend, a dragon, actually, and I used to go and see him every time I had a problem I couldn't fix on my own-"

"Wait, you have a friend _dragon_?" Mordred asked incredulously. Merlin looked surprised.

"Well, yeah. Anyway, you remember the first time we met? I helped you avoid the guards and took you to Morgana?" Mordred nodded. Merlin continued, "Well, you got really sick. You had an infection, and there was no way I was going to tell Gaius I'd helped you unless I absolutely had no other choice. I'd already lied to him when he asked if I had, so I went to see the dragon instead."

"Yes?"

"Well, he said that I should let you die, because you were going to kill Arthur someday." Merlin waited for Mordred's answer to this, as he looked out on Camelot rather than his companion.

"What? But I wouldn't Merlin, I promise! I owe Arthur my life!"

"It was one of the most shameful moments of my life that I came so close to letting you." Merlin said quietly, looking down at his feet. "I've never stopped regretting how near I came to it." Merlin felt a hand on his shoulder.

"But you didn't, Merlin." Merlin finally looked at his friend.

"It shouldn't have mattered, what the dragon said. Even if, one day, you were to become evil, I knew that you weren't then, and I probably pushed you closer to such a fate by letting my fear rule my actions. I am truly sorry, Mordred." Mordred looked at him seriously.

"I forgive you, Merlin." Merlin gave his friend a watery smile.

"You are very kind, Mordred. After all of the suspicion and mistrust I've subjected you to since you arrived, after I confess that I intentionally left you to die, your generosity is boundless." He turned away again. "I've made so many mistakes. But what I regret the most is withholding love in favor of grasping at fear and trying to control my own destiny." The two men were silent for a while before Mordred spoke, a little haltingly, as though trying to find the right words to communicate his thought.

"Merlin, all of us struggle to do what is right. All of us fight fear. You've made mistakes, and so have I, but we cannot change the past. All we can do is to ask forgiveness and move on."

"No. We can learn from it. We can vow to never repeat those mistakes. We can take today to do what is right, and that is what I'm trying to do. When you came back, I was thrust into fear again. I tried to control, and I failed, because I have no power over my fate, and I know that now. I'm never going to do that again. Over and over the dragon's told me you're going to kill Arthur, and so I must kill you, yet I can see clearly now that my actions could only make it true. I realized that the most powerful influence on men's hearts is love, and the dragon knows nothing of that. By withholding my friendship and acting treacherously toward you, I was sealing Arthur's fate, and depriving myself of a friend who could truly understand me, and is who is worthy of my friendship."

"Merlin, Arthur is my friend too. I would not hurt him. As for your friendship, I accept it willingly. You are not alone in your suffering, and I desire the true camaraderie that comes from having no secrets. I look forward to having a real friend." Merlin smiled wide.

"So do I." As it looked that their time was coming to an end, Mordred clasped his friend's shoulder, and turned to go.

"Mordred," Merlin called, "I need to pick some herbs for Gaius tomorrow. Would you care to join me? It is very remote . . . and certain things need not be as strict as they are in Camelot . . ." Mordred smiled genuinely.

"Merlin, are you asking me to skip training to go practice magic with you?" he asked. Merlin smiled.

"Yeah, that sounds about right." He said.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow," he called back as he walked away.

"Nine o' clock sharp!" Merlin called after him, grinning like the dickens.

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Yay! The end. Hope you all liked it. If you're interested in Gwaine's allusion to 'that time Merlin got drunk', read "What Kind of Ale is This", also by yours truly, and actually inspired by this story, although it was posted first.


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